Mistletoe Norse Novels & Stories

A third whispered, “Oh no.” I walked closer, staring at the strange plant suspiciously. “Why are wolves placing toxic foliage above entrances? Should I be concerned.” Lucian appeared at my side like he had been summoned by my confusion. “That is mistletoe.” “I gathered that,” I said dryly. “Why is it here?” He opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again. “Well… it is part of a holiday tradition.” I narrowed my eyes. “Explain.” Before he could, Marek stepped into the hallway carrying a stack of wooden beams over one shoulder as if gravity was a polite suggestion. His hair was rumpled, his shirt sleeves pushed up, and there was a streak of flour on his jaw that made absolutely no sense.

Her goddess gift of strategy is about to be clutch. One of the Valkyries Gondul sent out comes streaking through the sky, landing right in front of her. “Mist!” Gondul calls, just before she lands. “Where is Hrist?” “Still keeping watch,” Mist replies. “The demons are pouring out of the gates. Fenrir is with them—leading—alongside a god we don’t recognize.” “Fenrir?” Summer asks. “You mean the Norse werewolf?” Gondul turns to us, her face unreadable. “Yes. But if you are under the All-Father’s protection—and that of your goddess—then you have nothing to fear. He cannot control you.”

He stared at the apples and figs he had gone to so much trouble to pick to please his friends and the trouble he had taken to escape the surveillance of Alfhildr, his wicked stepmother who overloaded him with daily chores while her own children played. So he took a twig, bowed his head and started tracing runes on the ground, singing an unfamiliar melody that still came to his mind: There is no sun that the moon cannot overcome The day the debt is paid, tremble Kattegat, tremble When the iron meets the shield, tremble When songs grow from blood fed soils, tremble Whether he has to raze entire villages to write long exploit runes with blood, A Viking will end up paying his debt And so Kattega

The edges of the mask looked as though they were stitched or welded into the flesh of a ghostly white, glabrous head. The cloaked servants ceased chanting at once, and Nowk stared down at the silhouetted visitor and answered, “Ragnarok!” “Fear the Darkness, my children, as you would fear the siren’s tongue, for it will seek to poison your mind and blind you with false treasures, and not even my blessed Light can bear you hence.” -The Gospel of Glimmra

Alexis stared at Lendon seriously and said, “Mr. Martin, after last full moon night, I am sure Miss Miller can help control your poison, but….” “What?” Lendon stared at Alexis and asked coldly. “The poison has increased rapidly since last night,” Alexis answered. Lendon had guessed this result, so he didn’t get angry. “Do you know the reason?” He asked. “I think it is also related to Miss Miller.” Alexis explained patiently, “At full moon night, Miss Miller will spread a kind of special smell as well as another matter from her that could lessen the wolf poison inside your body; therefore, I conclude she can help decrease it. But on an ordinary day, her body is producing another matter that w

“Your kind is familiar with runes, right?” “Of course,” Nathan answers for both of us. Personally, I slept through that class in school. “The spell on the queen uses runes from Tyr’s aett; you’re familiar with Tyr?” Jonah pauses to check. “The Norse god of war. He sacrificed his arm to trap Fenrir,” Nathan says. “That,” I agree quietly. “Well, Tyr’s aett is all over her.” Jonah points his finger at Nathan. “And you are bound with etheric chains.” Nathan shakes his head. “I’m unfamiliar with the term.”

With the ground covered in grass and snow, small light bulbs were placed in all the trees around the main area making it look something similar to that human festival, Christmas. To my surprise, there were small saplings of moonflowers planted in this clearing. I had read that the presence of moonflowers keeps evil beings away. No doubt it is for Xanthos. I wouldn't want him to crash and ruin our night. He is still on the run and I know Fenris is working on finding him and his sister. I turn my attention back to my handsome mate. Standing there under the moonlight, he really looks like the Goddess's descendant, pure and strong, ready to take on any and every enemy for his people. I love him

Vættir is a type of gnome from Iceland. 53. Huldra In Scandinavian fairy tales and folklore, the Huldra (another name in Swedish: Skogsrå or Skogsfru (meaning “girl of the forest”), and Tallemaja) is a legendary creature from the forest. Usually female. Seen from the front, they are naked with extremely beautiful faces, but when viewed from behind, their backs are hollow like tree holes in old tree trunks. In Norway, their back is not hollow, but they do have a tail (a cow's tail according to Norwegian belief, while for Swedes they have a cow's tail or a fox's tail) which is the only thing that distinguishes them from normal girls.

Seaweed dangled from the broken temple, covering the eyelids with a greenish-blue bandage. A long time ago, when her aunt taught her sorcery, Nocté saw her relatives from the inside, and then she learnt about people by reading and carefully looking through the pictures in the books of the royal healer. The newt didn't have the protective armor of the Northern Border Guards, but Nocté knew he was one of them. The girl carefully examined the mutated tail, similar to human limbs. “Did the stream bring him here, or was it monsters endeavour? This could not be done by a human.” Nocté jumped to the newt's body. She pushed the impudent seagull away from his side, removed the seeweed and closed his

“But Kolya is just a bannik.” “Perhaps he seems so, appearances-wise, but his bloodline speaks otherwise.” Anya's head swum. Memories of the old tales of the gods told round the hearth-fire by Dmitri surfaced in her mind. She recalled the thunder god Perun, king of storms, and his rival jovial Veles, lord of cattle and the leafy green underworld. She thought of the golden spring god Jarilo and his lover Morena, goddess of winter, death, and witchcraft, eternal enemy of Chernobog.